Christmas, 1968
by vampyr59
Summary: Readers of the novel may recognize the situation, but with a different character. This is based in part on a true story, but the version here would never have been possible without the character and situations created by John Ajvide Lindqvist. God Jul!


**Christmas, 1968**

"I've killed it. Oh! Everything I touch gets ruined."

From _A Charlie Brown Christmas_

Eli flew over the tree tops, across a countryside frozen in winter. As Eli searched the landscape she spotted the lights of a house shining off in the distance. Eli glided down to the crest of a hill and stood quietly among the trees. She stared for a long time at the lights off in the distance and thought about the people that lived inside the house.

Eli often did this when she saw the lighted windows of a house at night. The light in the windows showed that people were living their lives sheltered from the cold and dark. Eli enjoyed picturing what the people behind the windows might be like. What kind of people were they, and how did they live their lives? Eli thought of these things and made up little stories about the people she imagined as she stood quietly in the snow and watched the brightly lit windows off in the distance.

Tonight, Eli's eyes told her a different story. She spotted a house with all its lights on. Eli immediately sensed this was something out of place. This late at night, the lights meant that someone might be alone. That someone might be alone meant there may be blood. For Eli, blood was a matter of life and death.

So on this night, Eli flew towards the lights and glided silently to a landing in the snow. The smell of wood smoke filled the air. Eli crept up to the house and cautiously peered through the brightly lit windows. As Eli circled the house she saw that all the rooms in the house were empty, except the kitchen where she found an unkempt man hunched over some piece of machinery with wires on the counter. He was working at it with a screwdriver. While Eli watched, the man put his tool down and took a sip from a glass on the counter.

Eli took a little snow in her fingers and dabbed it under her eyes so that the snow melted and a little water would make a streak down either side of her grimy face. With her face now marked Eli went to the door and knocked. After a long pause, heavy footsteps approached and the door opened to reveal a large man.

"Hello there . . .what . . . are you doing out here?"

"Please. . . I would like to come in."

"Of course you may come in! My God. . .it is so cold. . . don't you have a coat?"

As he spoke the smell of alcohol washed over Eli. Mixed with the shock and concern in the man's eyes was a happy stupor, and a smile that looked out of place on his tired face. He was a big man who spoke with a rural accent. An old stained shirt covered a large belly. The trousers also had a stain on it, and on his feet he wore raggedy slippers. Most of all Eli noticed the man's eyes. Enormous, red rimmed: The watery eyes of an old dog. As Eli crossed the thresh hold, a large paternal hand was placed on Eli's shoulder and ushered her down a hall way and into the kitchen. Some old magazines were cleared off a battered chair for Eli.

"Would you like a bottle of beer? No. Of course not, you are a child, and you want something hot. I will brew you some hot tea, you must be frozen through."

The man filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. As the water heated, the man scratched his gray stubble and stared in wonder at Eli.

"My God child, how did you get here?"

The man asked the usual questions and Eli gave the usual answers. She had been lost. Together, they made tentative arrangements to take Eli home in the morning. She said her Poppa was in Umeå. This was actually where Erik was, her oh so loyal creature. Eli still needed to pay Erik a visit and settle up his account, so to speak . . . Someone else would have to be found next year. Thinking of this, Eli let out a long sigh. At the sound of Eli's sigh, the man's large eyes turned from happy stupor to an almost teary concern.

"Are you alright child? Let me get you a blanket."

The man left Eli alone in the kitchen. Eli's eyes gradually adjusted to the electric lights. She was still amazed, after many years, at the intensity of electric lighting. The harsh glare of the kitchen lights brought the state of the kitchen into sharp focus. There were unwashed dishes in the sink. Ashes and charcoal lay un-swept around the wood fired stove. Dishes and some very un-domestic junk littered the counters. Grease and grime lay on everything in random patterns. This was very obviously _old_ grease and grime that had acquired its own unmistakable patina through long neglect.

The man returned with a hand knit comforter that looked out of place in his large hand. In his other hand he carried a metal pan with soapy water in it. He put the metal pan on the stove to warm it, and reaching around Eli, put the comforter over her shoulders. The man picked up a wet rag from the soapy water, carefully squeezed it out and began to clean Eli as she sat in the kitchen, first her face and then her hands. As he worked, he spoke quietly to Eli:

"You are _filthy_ child. Don't start away. This is an old rag, but it is clean and soft, just the thing for cleaning little girls. You must have been lost for a very long time. I had children once like you . . . a long time ago. Now they are gone, and they will not return."

The man sighed, breathing alcohol on Eli, and continued:

"People are like that, they only see the bad and they forget about the good. . .. They forget there is a person living here, in this house. _You_ noticed, didn't you child, by God you noticed! As he began to clean Eli's dirty hand, he stopped, held her small hand in his own large warm hand and stared. "Why it is a miracle you are not frostbit. Why are you not frostbit? Why are you not . . .?"

He looked Eli in the face and said, "My God child, did you fall from the sky?" Eli did not answer, she only stared back at the man as the water in the kettle began to boil. The man looked away and then looked back at Eli. He started to speak but then he hesitated. Confusion passed over his face for a moment, and then his eyes brightened:

"Would you like something to eat?"

* * *

The living room had a fire place with two arm chairs placed in front of it. Eli sat in one of the chairs with the comforter. After repeated offers, Eli had consented to take some crackers, and some candy as well because "all children love candy." The hot tea, the crackers and candy now sat on a little table between the two chairs. A bright fire blazed and popped in the fire place. The man had left for a moment and Eli studied the room around her. General dirt and neglect was in evidence here as well, but there were other things. The room had little feminine touches. There were lace doilies underneath the coat of dust on the tables. There were pictures on the walls. Two were of very young children. A severe old woman in antique clothing stared out from a dusty frame. In another frame, a young bride smiled happily, standing next to a much younger version of the man who was now walking into the room. He carried a large tumbler of clear liquid and as he sat down in the chair opposite Eli, he spilled a little. Eli again caught the medicinal odor of vodka. The man looked cheerfully at Eli in the opposite chair.

"Isn't this cozy? I will turn out the lights so we can enjoy the fire."

The man rose unsteadily to his feet and clicked off the electric lights. Now the room was lit only by the fire, its warm glow flickering on the man's face. The man picked up the tumbler of vodka, winked at Eli and said, "Happy Christmas!" before taking a large swallow.

Eli remembered something and asked, "Will you be seeing anyone tomorrow?"

At this question, the man sat in silence for a moment and stared absently at the floor.

"No, I will not be seeing anyone tomorrow."

The man quickly finished his tumbler. He got up, left the room and returned with it full again, walking with a still more unsteady gate. He quickly finished his second draught. The fire crackled quietly and burned lower. Eli could see by the dimming light that the man's face was flushed red with the heat of the fire, and with the raw alcohol. As Eli watched attentively, the man sat there silent, his eyes staring into the coals. Gradually, the eyelids drooped and closed. The man slumped over slightly in his chair. As Eli listened, the man's breathing became slow and regular through a mouth that hung part way open.

Eli waited awhile, then she crept out of her chair, climbed into the man's lap, and taking firm hold of his head opened her mouth wide and tore open the flesh on his neck.

* * *

Afterwords, Eli returned quietly to her chair and her comforter. The fire had died out almost completely and now only a few coals glowed and hissed in the darkness. Eli's eyes stared absently at the coals. The warm glow of alcohol filled her body and she grew dazed and sleepy. After a while the low quiet voice of Eli could be heard, speaking briefly to a person who seemed to be there in the fireplace. Then all was quiet and Eli's breathing became slow and regular.

Later, Eli awoke, sensing the impending dawn. Eli was sick with the alcohol from the man's blood. Eli also felt that uncomfortable something that she always felt at times like this, a vague unhappy feeling that the alcohol now made more acute. Eli shuddered and with her hand waved the unhappy feeling away. She arose from her chair, searched the house and found the cellar door. Quietly, Eli crept down the steps into the dark windowless cellar, lay down on the floor and went to sleep. She knew that in this house, and on this day at least, no one was coming to visit.

As Eli slept, daylight came and daylight left. All the fires in the house went out, and the relentless cold gradually crept in to replace the heat. When Eli awoke and ventured out of the cellar after nightfall, the house had grown very cold and dark. Eli could leave now, but for some reason, she wanted to say good bye to the man in the living room. When Eli switched on the living room light, she found the man slumped in his chair where she had left him. Dried blood covered his old shirt. His head was at an unnatural angle to the body, and the face seemed somehow squashed and titled like the frame of an old house that was beginning to tumble down to one side. The eyelids were parted just a bit, and what was visible between them was drying in the winter air.

What was once the man who had let Eli into his house was now only rubbish. Eli stood there alone in the room for a moment, and then she switched off the light.

Eli flew over the tree tops, across a countryside frozen in winter. As Eli searched the landscape she spotted the lights of a house shining off in the distance. Eli glided down to the crest of a hill and stood quietly among the trees. She stared for a long time at the lights off in the distance and thought about the people that lived inside the house.


End file.
